


Practical

by splatplatplat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/F, Pining, Quidditch, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:15:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24022723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/splatplatplat/pseuds/splatplatplat
Summary: In any other life, they would never be together. They were different, strikingly so, and she wasn’t quite so blind as to deny it.Yaoyorozu Momo was a practical girl, and this was the practical truth.(Or: The practical Ravenclaw falls in love with the reckless Gryffindor.)
Relationships: Ashido Mina/Yaoyorozu Momo
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Practical

In any other life, they would never be together. They were different, strikingly so, and she wasn’t quite so blind as to deny it. 

Yaoyorozu Momo was a practical girl, and this was the practical truth.

She had met the girl on accident. If she had been in her right mind (if she hadn’t been so sodding _ drunk)  _ she would have easily looked past her. Another boisterous Gryffindor girl, with an affinity for charms, for hexes, for practical jokes even she could not comprehend.

And practical jokes–those were not practical. They were nuisances, and they were, more often than not, unjustified attacks upon unsuspecting victims. And so Todoroki Shouto with a frog in his drink and a bright purple streak down his hair and a sudden stammer in his voice–those things were not practical.

If she had been in her right mind, those things would have made her upset. 

But she had  _ not _ been in her right mind. And, alcohol blurring her thoughts, she’d laughed–she’d caught a whiff of the amphibian, and saw the utter displeasure in her companion’s eyes, and she’d laughed. A hearty, unrestrained laugh, teetering on the edge of a guffaw, of something quite unpresentable–but she’d laughed anyway, because it was funny, even though she did not quite know  _ why _ .

She’d wiped her tears after her laughing fit–heavens, tears?–and composed herself. Closed her eyes. A deep inhale through the mouth, a deep exhale through the lips. 

When she had opened her eyes once more, the room remained largely unchanged, big and cold and unwelcoming. Todoroki’s drink, to his dismay, was still very much infested by a frog, and his hair was still very much purple–

And, behind him, still very much sniggering, was Ashido Mina.

Her family had been acquainted with the Ashidos at some point or another. They were a quiet sort of group of mixed ancestry, owners of a small business down in Diagon Alley. She would ask her mother about them in the near future, only to be met with a wave of a hand. “Unnecessary chatter, dear,” the woman had told her, and she’d obliged, and dropped the subject.

But this was not the near future. This was now, and this was then, and this was Ashido Mina, her hair dyed a fluorescent pink, snickering at her night’s work. Her mouth was twisted into a little smirk, and her eyes glowered with a bright ambition.

If she had been in her right mind, she would have stopped her.

But, that night–oh, that night.  She was perfect.

Privately, Yaoyorozu liked the sight of her. But she was rambunctious and reckless and not quite practical–

And Yaoyorozu was a practical girl.

* * *

Some months later, and she was by the Quidditch pitch, watching the very same girl. This time, on a broom, up in the air.

She was not drunk this time, and there was nothing around to hinder her thoughts. Only the grass beneath her, the sky above her, and the girl.

On any ordinary day, this would be a bad idea, and one could most definitely argue that Yaoyorozu Momo had lost her mind. This was not something she allowed herself; if she had had clarity of thought, she would have recognized this to be a distraction.

But, today ( _ just today _ , she told herself), she allowed it; it was a lovely afternoon, and she had nothing much left to cover in her work, and it would not do to lose her position on Ravenclaw’s team solely for her lack of practice, her lack of commitment over the holidays. So long as she was studying Quidditch, watching Quidditch, breathing _Quidditch_ –

Would it truly harm anyone?

And so she sat there, studying the Gryffindor Chaser under a lilac sky.

“Your left leg,” she called, and the girl obeyed easily enough, adjusting her grip and form. “Come,” she said, and the girl descended towards her.

As the girl neared, Yaoyorozu frowned; a careful, calculating frown, coupled with equally calculating glances. “Your handiwork is decent,” she told the girl, and at this Ashido perked up, “but your footwork is disastrous, not to mention that awful slouch of yours.” The girl listened intently. “In a game, you will need to fly at top speed. Keep your legs even and strong, lean forward only when you must–and, please, sit  _ up. _ ”

“Roger that,” the girl said, smiling. She had a radiant smile, the girl, bright and even and pleasant–Yaoyorozu quite liked the sight, and allowed herself a small smile of her own.

Ashido Mina ascended once more, and Yaoyorozu watched her adjust herself, watched her straighten her back and even out her form. Then, she sped away, and merged once more with the sky.

Yaoyorozu, that afternoon, felt her heart swell.

_ Just today,  _ she told herself.

(But they met up again the next day, and the day after, and for many weeks following, and flew together, side-by-side.)

* * *

The Ravenclaw Quidditch team was graceful; a carefully selected group of young women, stern in discipline, sharp in instinct, ever-aware.

Yaoyorozu Momo was a Chaser. There were two others on the team, sharing the very same position–but Yaoyorozu was a chaser, and she did her job well, and practiced often. She had a calm mind, she had a wonderful grasp of athletics, and was not afraid to take a (careful) risk for the benefit of the team.

For the most part, Yaoyorozu was a wonderful player. She was a sixth-year now, and had plenty of experience with the sport. She was strong and meditative and her teammates relied on her, both on the pitch and outside of it.

This would be final match of the year–it was never any different, the match schedules, and they remained the same from year-to-year. They began every year in November, with the Gryffindors and the Slytherins; and, similarly, ended each year in May, with the Gryffindors against the Ravenclaws.

They were ready, of course. They’d had grueling hours of warm-ups and cool-downs, of running through strategies, of analyzing each player on their opposing team, imagining the different plays and positions they would have to take; they had practiced endlessly, tirelessly–

Or perhaps not quite enough at all. 

The Gryffindor team was strong, yes, but never were they _extraordinary_ , but the Gryffindors had always been keen on winning, and were often quite determined to attain the victories they so sought.

This would be the final match of the year.

The girl would be there, undoubtedly anticipating her. Yaoyorozu knew her, and knew she had a reckless edge, an unpredictable factor that even she could not predict.

Ashido Mina was not practical–but Yaoyorozu wanted to beat her, very much so.

So Yaoyorozu, in every practice, resolved to win.

* * *

“I want a good, clean game.”

There was no need to remind the players of the fact; Yaoyorozu was quite certain everyone had heard the phrase before. But there was something heavy in the utterance, in the way the captains came together at the center of the pitch, brooms in hand, the way they shook upon a good game. The tension, thick in the air–

Yes, there was something heavy behind it. 

She saw the girl before her ascent. Her pink hair, now faded, tied back into a tight ponytail, and her smile, bright and even and far-too radiant. Her arms were muscular and she gripped her broom tightly, and the light of day illuminated her stunningly–

She was distracted, undoubtedly so.

Yaoyorozu was a practical girl. But the ache in her heart, the sudden desire to descend and pull the girl into her arms, to look fondly upon her and to call the girl her own, to study every fraction of her, to understand her beyond anyone else–

No, this was not practical, and she shook herself of the thoughts quickly. She gripped her own broom and, without another look in Ashido Mina’s direction, ascended into the air.

Yaoyorozu resolved to win.

**Author's Note:**

> this is an exploration as part of a larger, longer series i'm working on. i've never written for these two before, so everything is still fresh and exciting, and i can't wait to do more with them.
> 
> this was a different narrative style than my usual, so hope it was alright. thank you for reading–let me know what you thought!


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